


The Dragon's Spine

by mademoisellesansa



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:16:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoisellesansa/pseuds/mademoisellesansa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky is breached, the Circles broken - with their world crashing down around them, Thedas lays its hopes and faith upon the shoulders of the Herald of Andraste, a frightened, lonely mage who simply wishes to return to a simpler past. </p>
<p>This is the story of how a Herald and her Commander learn that you cannot erase the tragedies of the past, but you can learn to live with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Inquisition

**Author's Note:**

> Enchanter remind, that time will not unwind.  
> The dragon's crooked spine will never straighten into line.
> 
> \--
> 
> I just finished my first playthrough of Dragon Age: Inquisition and this fic is more or less the means by which I'm trying to come to terms with everything that happened in the game. While the romance arc for Cullen was a lot of fun, I felt like the pace of the relationship was a little inconsistent - speeding up a bit too much at certain points. Which is really my roundabout way of apologizing for the slow, long, arduous, drawn out affair that is going to happen here. I've always envisioned my Inquisitor and Cullen as both slow burns - they might fall fast, but they've both been through too much to be brave enough to jump into anything with their eyes wide open. So please sit back, relax, and enjoy :D

Lady Reina Trevelyan had lived at the Ostwick Circle for as long as she could remember. Memories of home were like half-remembered dreams of another life - glimpses of rich scarlet drapery and the bright laughter of women drifting through airy wooden halls that smelled of nutmeg and firewood. Her lord father and lady mother were kindly strangers who dutifully visited her once every year after the end of the season of Andrastetide festivities, coming with the new year's snow and asking tepid questions about her studies, her health, her happiness. The Circle had been her home, the song of the Enchanter her lullaby, the other acolytes and the senior magi her family, the templars her silent guardians and watchmen - all of the Circle forming a ring of warmth and security as indelible as stone. Her Harrowing had come and passed without incident and, before she realized it, Reina was guiding and singing lullabies for her own young initiates fresh to Circle life. These would be her children, wide-eyed and wondering, and she would lead them by the hand as they navigated the treacherous and wondrous paths of magic, as beautiful and dangerous as fire. Magic shall serve man, not rule over him, she admonished them every day as her mentor had admonished her and her mentor's mentor before her. During her time at the Circle Reina had learned many ways in which magic could serve - she could set a flame with no more than a flick of her fingers and a word, she knew how to shape the Fade into the last snowfall of winter or the first quenching rain of spring, she could crack rings of stone with a thought. Yet, innocently, she still believed that rings of tradition and history and magical kinship were not so easily cracked. Far removed from the intrigue and desperation of life beyond her Circle's walls, Reina still believed in the strength of human hearts.

In the end, all it took to crack the Circles was a word. It started with rumors of blood and darkness out of Kinloch before all rumors ceased entirely. In the weeks that followed, unease spread across the Circle, though none of the daily routine changed, the eyes that followed the mages grew harder, more fearful, more vigilant. The templars seldom smiled and then ceased smiling altogether. Then came the news of Kirkwall, news of massacre and terrible, unbelievable abuse. Stories began to spread of fellow mages being robbed - not only of their cursed power, but also of themselves - of rape and murder and torture beyond imagination. There were scuffles between some of the more radical mages, ones who already chafed at the perceived chains of the Circle, and templar recruits, occasional insults and barbed words passing each other in the marble corridors, calls for arms and calls for peace and calls for faith. Yet, still, like a fool, Reina prayed to the Maker and believed that soon all would be well - all would be well. Magic shall serve man, not rule over him.

Reina was joining hands in prayer with Senior Enchanter Lydia, her dearest friend and mentor, who had been almost a mother to her since she had begun her life at the Circle, when news of the vote of the leading mages arrived. The acolyte who brought it was breathless, unbelieving even as he delivered the damning words that took Reina's entire world and shattered it into irretrievable fragments.

"M'ladies, the College, it - they - voted to dissolve."

"Dissolve what." Reina had never heard Lydia's tone sound so sharp before.

"Dissolve - Dissolve the Circles m'ladies." She felt Lydia's hands tremor in her own and she knew that the blood had drained from her own face.

"Andraste preserve us," she stared in vacant desperation at the messenger, "they've destroyed us all."

The next week passed in a blur, faces and events bleeding into each other like a lyrium induced nightmare. Reina remembers Lydia writing letters to Lord and Lady Trevelyan, first asking, then pleading with them to bring Reina back to the Trevelyan family home. The replies were sympathetic, but firm. Lord and Lady Trevelyan could not risk the lives of their other children and household by taking in any now apostate mage, even their own daughter. It seemed to matter little to them that Reina had never wanted this - that she had been content to peacefully live out her life at the Circle among the only familiarity she had ever known. Soon it became clear that it mattered little to anyone else what Reina had wanted - she was a mage and therefore in rebellion. The templars that had always watched her, had guarded her from her first spell to her Harrowing, came with chains and swords and faces like steel. When she and Lydia and her children fled, refusing to fight, their fellow mages came for them, bringing ice and flame and, finally, demons. They fled from village to village, hunted by templar, attacked by mage, until one day, Reina returned to see a battle of steel and magic surrounded by the corpses of her initiates, too young, too innocent to die to the savagery of idealism. With an arrow plunged into her chest and her once beautiful face ravaged by mageflame, Lydia still summoned enough conviction to scream "Run, Reina! Run!" before choosing to die with both mage and templar alike, immolating the entire battlefield in blinding fire - a Senior Enchantress until the end. 

Was there really a Maker? Reina often wondered as she wandered alone along unfamiliar roads and slept in the cold winter night until kindly tavernkeeps invited her in to sit by the fire. If there was a Maker, why did it seem like the end of the world had been set into motion without even a hint of hesitation? It was only upon hearing the news of the peace summit at Haven that a flicker of hope return to her life. Perhaps the Divine could succeed in bridging the breach between the different sides and restore the Circles and, with them, peace. It was only upon arriving at the summit that Reina realized that the last flicker of hope is no more than the sign of the true end, for she saw the skies open the gates of Hell and a flash of green and remembered no more.

\--

"Ah you're awake I see." As her eyes slowly adjusted to the torchlight, Reina made out the features of an armored woman, her eyes narrowed in suspicion and dark hair closely cropped to her head like an unruly helmet. She spoke harshly, angrily, her words made more clipped with her brisk Nevarran accent. 

"Where - where am I?" 

"You are in Haven. According to the soldiers who found you, you stepped out of one of those, hmm, rifts, and fell unconscious. Don't you remember?" A second, hooded woman spoke, her voice sweet and clear, but her eyes coldly cataloguing Reina's every expression.

"I - I don't remember," Reina pleaded, tears springing to her eyes. She remembered demons and green and the world ending, it must have been just another nightmare - everything was a just a nightmare. Soon she would wake up, safe in her chambers in the Circle, and find that the past year had been nothing more than a bad dream. The Nevarran woman strode up to Reina angrily, grasping her shoulders in a white-knuckled grip.

"You don't remember," she gritted out, "Everyone. Everyone is dead. Hundreds. The Conclave attacked. The Divine - the Divine -" her voice broke.

"Come come Cassandra, you're scaring the poor girl," the second woman interjected, heading towards the door.

"Go to the forward camps Leliana, I can handle this."

"As you wish." So saying, the woman named Leliana slipped out of the room like the shadow of a raven, leaving Reina alone with Cassandra. Cassandra sighed and lifted Reina to her feet.

"It will be easier to show you." So saying, she led Reina out of the dungeons and through a Chantry, throwing open the doors and blinding Reina with the early morning light. She stabbed a finger at a tear in the fabric of the sky, glowing serpent-green along its serrated edges. Cassandra then grabbed Reina's right wrist and laid a silent accusation upon her pulsing, green-light scarred palm. As she stared horror-stricken at her hand, Reina heard murmurs rippling through the crowd standing before her and felt the chill of angry gazes. 

"They are all convinced of your guilt," Cassandra told her, "they are certain that you, a mage, opened that Breach in the sky and murdered our beloved Divine. What do you have to say?" Reina kept silent, the half-spoken accusations of the crowd drowning out her ability to defend herself. Murderer. Rebel. Apostate. Traitor. 

"Nothing?" Cassandra almost sounded disappointed. "Very well then." She drew a knife. Upon seeing Reina's flinch of fear, she made a reassuring gesture before quickly cutting Reina's bonds.

"I am to bring you to one of the smaller rifts. Solas, an elven apostate who has volunteered his services, seems to believe that your - mark - might be able to stem the tide. Maker help us all." So saying, she began to lead Reina through the muttering crowd, the sea of hating eyes parting before them. Cassandra told Reina about the events leading up to her capture and interrogation - how an explosion had killed almost everyone at the Conclave, including Divine Justinia herself, how tears in the very fabric of the sky had opened and begun to spew forth demons and apparitions out of a nightmare, how many believe that the end of the world is indeed upon them. As she spoke, Reina nodded, venturing to ask a few questions about how long she had been unconscious and what they knew of the nature of the rifts. Reina was so focused on trying to accept what she had heard as reality that she nearly crashed into Cassandra's back when the other woman came to a sudden stop in front of her.

"Demons. Stay behind me." Drawing her sword and hefting her shield, Cassandra charged at the ghastly green spirits blocking their path. As she charged, a demon appeared behind her, it's ragged hood cloaking a decaying face and chilling presence that Reina recognized from her Harrowing and the dreams that had haunted her since Lydia's death. 

"Despair," she gasped, the demon's presence drawing the breath from her body. She could give up - right here, right now, and let the rest of the world be damned. The backs of her parents, the swords of the Templars, the curses of the mages, her children, her Lydia, the wound in the sky, it would all go away and she would be left numb, numb and painless. Yet, through her blurring vision seeing Cassandra charge faithfully, fearlessly headlong into battle, her Seeker's shield raised against the jaws of Hell itself, Reina began to feel wonderfully, irrationally angry. If this were the end, be it the Maker's or some other power's, why should she make it easy for them? Clinging to her anger, she wreathed the demon with furious mage-fire, fueling her will to live with its shrieks of pain. 

"Maker take you!" Cassandra yelled as she dispatched the last of the wraiths. "You can do battle," she glanced at Reina curiously, "I was not aware that you had seen combat."

"I've faced demons before. When we refused to join the rebellion - other mages - please, I'd rather not speak of it," Reina answered wearily, feeling her magic slowly regenerate. 

"You were not a rebel?" Cassandra's tone was surprised. Of course she had assumed - as everyone assumes.

"No. Our Circle had voted to remain with the Chantry. But we are hunted all the same."

"I'm - sorry."

It wasn't long before they reached the rift where the elven apostate, Solas, and a crossbow-wielding dwarf named Varric awaited them. After they pushed back the demons, Solas grasped Reina's right wrist and forcibly channeled her mana through her hand towards the eerie gash in the fabric of space. Reina felt her mana mix with the magic of the mark, evolving and growing until it connected with the magic of the tear, the two streams of magic humming in unison before everything faded to black.

\--

"I will not stand for this! The Chantry will not stand for this! Herald of Andraste indeed. This - this creature is no more than a mass murderer. She should be delivered to Val Royeaux for trial immediately!" 

Reina awoke to the shrill voice of an angry man, the piercing pain at her temples exacerbated by the noise. 

"She is our best hope of closing the Breach and I am not about to deliver that to be used by the remaining clerics as some kind of scapegoat!" Cassandra's steely resolve rose over the rest of the voices. 

"Cass - andra?" Reina murmured, latching onto the Seeker's solid familiarity. 

"You're awake." A man with bright golden hair walked up to Reina's stretcher with a half smile. As he came closer, Reina made out the familiar design of templar armor and the lingering notes of lyrium and she cringed, refusing to meet his eyes. Cassandra stopped his approach.

"I think you're scaring her Cullen. It's that templar armor."

"Oh." The smile dissolved from the man's voice, melting into a feeling almost like disappointment and hurt. "I'm sorry, I should have known."

"Please, ser," Reina forced herself upright, "I - I didn't - it wasn't as bad as you're imagining it was." She raised her green eyes to meet his brown ones. "I was in the Ostwick Circle," she further volunteered as clarification.

"Ah," the vaguest hint of a smile returned, "My name is Cullen Rutherford, ex-Templar and Commander of the Inquisitions forces. Such as they are."

"A pleasure, ser." 

Cassandra cleared her throat.

"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, the Inquisition's Ambassador," she gestured at a dark-skinned woman with lovely Antivan features and thick, curling brown hair.

"A pleasure, Your Worship." Josephine dropped into a half-curtsy.

"And you have already met Leliana, our spymaster," Cassandra continued.

"To put it bluntly," Leliana laughed. Reina nodded, pulling her face into a tired smile.

"And you," for the first time, Reina saw Cassandra smile, all warmth and truth, "are the Herald of Andraste."

"Oh. I see. 'Your Worship.'" Reina sighed, staring down at the foreign mark the glowed in the palm of her right hand. "So the attempt was successful?"

"Yes. Though there is no time to celebrate. We must push on to the Breach."

"This is madness! On your head, Seeker, be the consequences!" The angry man stormed out of the building.

"And that," Cullen commented drily, "was Chancellor Roderick." A heated debate about the wisest path to take to the Breach ensued, with Cassandra and Cullen favoring pushing forward with the remaining soldiers and Leliana suggesting an alternate, more devious route - using the soldiers to draw away the demons while Reina, under the protection of Cassandra, Varric, and Solas, made her way through a mountain pass.

"It would be faster," Leliana said, "and you know we have no time to waste." Cullen's face darkened.

"The lives of our soldiers are not pawns to be discarded on a whim." There was a tense silence until Cassandra turned to Reina.

"You are our Herald. Which path do you favor?" Reina avoided Cullen's eyes, looking down at her lap as she responded.

"We don't have the luxury of time."

"Very well," his voice was clipped and professional, "I will gather our remaining forces."

The mountain path was cold and treacherous, but they were able to find the remaining scouts and help them fend off the demons spewing from yet another rift in the sky. As Reina sealed the rift, channeling her magic as she had felt Solas channeling it before, she tried not to wonder about the soldiers giving their lives to buy them swift passage. Despite the familiar exhaustion that began to creep over her after the ordeal of sealing the rift, Reina forced herself to press on faster, as if sealing the Breach could dry the blood that dripped from her fingers. The path ahead was thankfully clear of demons and it wasn't long before they reached the site of the Conclave, where a yawning breach in the sky marked what had once been a site of hope and faith. As they made their way through the ruins of the building, Reina's heart failed her as she looked at the cavernous tear that she was expected to seal. 

"I don't think - How can I even reach that?" As she spoke, the permeating smell of charred flesh assailed her senses and she retched, stumbling to a side. The sight of the bodies, burned and twisted beyond recognition seared her mind with the nightmarish terror of it all. A gauntleted hand reached out to steady her, pushing her upright. 

"The soldiers will clear a path. You can't let them see you like this - you are their Herald. They will live and die by you," Cullen stood beside her as the remaining soldiers filed into the ruins. Reina was relieved to see that their ranks were not as thinned as she had feared.

"Commander, I'm sorry. I - " she stammered.

"No need for apologies, Your Worship," he said, "You did what you thought best." Together, they made their way down through the crumbling stone and dessicated corpses to the Breach. It pulsed unnaturally, the foreign magic flowing in strange knots as if it had been closed but not sealed. 

"You will have to reopen it in order to seal it properly. The process of doing so may attract the attention of demons on the other side." Solas appeared at Reina's other side, his grip on his apostate's staff tightening. "Let me know when you are ready." Cullen had already started arranging the soldiers into strategic formation.

"Soldiers of the Inquisition!" he roared, "Whatever comes through that Breach, whatever happens, we hold it off. For the Divine! For Andraste! For the Herald!"

"For the Herald!" The roar echoed through the ranks of the soldiers as Reina tersely nodded at Solas before channeling her mana, the mark's mana, towards the pulsating Breach. As she felt the knots slowly unraveling, a terrifying laughter reverberated through the ruins, gleeful, dangerous, and proud. Instead of unraveling, the last magical knots were shredded as an enormous horned beast stepped through the Breach followed by an array of smaller wraiths and demons, lightning crackling from its horns and across its skin. 

"Maker what is that thing?" Cassandra gasped from behind Reina. 

"A Pride demon," Solas answered. "Be on your guard." As if on cue, the gigantic beast began charging towards them, sending ripples of electricity ahead of it on the ground. Reina threw herself to one side, instinctively casting a barrier spell, as the Inquisition forces assaulted the demon from behind, Leliana's arrows relentless pincushioning its armored skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Varric loading Bianca, his prized crossbow, and aiming it at the weaker armor surrounding the demon's neck. Sidestepping one of the demon's whips of electricity, she threw an ice spell at the beast, hoping to slow it down. Instead, the spell dissipated on the demon's skin, leaving only a faint layer of frost. Varric's shot flew wide and he cursed.

"Shit. Curly!" he yelled at Cullen across the fray, "Have your soldiers draw that thing away from the Breach so Kitten here can do her thing." Cullen nodded his comprehension and signalled the soldiers who began to slowly draw the demon towards one corner of the ruins. After what seemed like an eternity of dodging and ducking the attacks of the horde of lesser demons that had poured from the rift, Reina was finally able to connect her mark with the gigantic Breach, feeling it hungrily devour her mana before drawing all of the demons into its maw and closing with a resounding crack. Kitten? Was her last conscious thought before everything faded once more into blissful blackness.

\--

Reina awoke feeling more warm and comfortable than she had in a long long time. The past year really had all been nothing more than a bad dream then and now she was back, awake, in her own bed, safe and secure within the walls of the Circle. As she sat up, a clatter shook her out of her reverie and into awareness of her surroundings. She was sitting in a warm bed, it was true, but this wasn't her bedchamber in the Circle. Instead, she was sitting in what appeared to be a small wooden hut complete with a roaring fireplace and a shivering elven serving girl kneeling before her, the remnants of a teatray scattered on the ground.

"Your Worship! I didn't mean to wake you. I really didn't!" the girl stammered, her eyes on the ground.

"It's alright. You don't need to be afraid. You didn't wake me." Reina reassured her. Even so, the girl still took on the aspect of a frightened nug as she got back on her feet.

"Lady Cassandra will want to know you're awake Your Worship. At once she said. At once!" So saying, the girl fled the room, shutting the door carefully behind her. After she left, Reina gingerly swung her feet over the side of the bed, testing her weight. Her legs shook, but they didn't give way, and after a few minutes of pacing around the room, they seemed to be back in working order. Cassandra would probably want to meet with her to inform her about what the Inquisition's next steps would be. Reina sighed as she slipped on her boots and walked outside, trying to avoid the curious eyes and whispers that seemed to follow her across the town. That's the Herald. She heard them whisper. I heard she was sent through the rift by Blessed Andraste herself. As she walked past the weaponsmith, she was accosted by Varric, who handed her a long object swathed in cloth. 

"A gift from the Inquisition, Your Worship," he said, "We can't have the Herald walking around without even a decent means of defending herself now can we?" Reina unwrapped the staff and ran her hands along its smooth metallic surface, tracing the ridges of the sculpted dragon that served as a focus. 

"It's lovely."

"Glad you like it. Heard Cassandra's been wanting to see you. You should hurry up to the Chantry and see what she wants." Reina nodded.

"By the way, Varric?"

"Your Worship?"

"What did you call me the other day at the Breach?" Varric chuckled, his blue eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Ah. I'm surprised you remembered. Not much. Just a nickname."

"Kitten?" Varric crossed his arms and laughed at her.

"Ah. Well. You're such a pretty little thing with those green eyes and that black hair. Cassandra and Cullen could probably break you in half with their bare hands. And you have that manner about you, you know. All sweet and polite and delicate, it's like you belong in some rag for young girls rather than a story about a hero slaying demons and all that."

"Are you saying I don't have a personality?" Reina laughed. It had been a long time since she had felt like laughing, but something about how Varric saw her, not as a dangerous mage, not as a criminal, and not as a hero, that felt humanizing and made Reina feel more alive.

"Well I'm hardly in a position to say anything seeing as we're only just getting to know each other but," Varric's face grew serious, "Take a word of advice from me, kid. I've written enough stories about heroes to know that this kind of thing? It doesn't end well. I've known men and women tougher than nails and even for them it ain't easy. And you're just a girl." 

"So you're advice is that I should run and hide."

"Well - yes and no. It's hard to say what the right thing to do is with the sky spewing demons at us. You should go before the Seeker gets impatient. I'll catch you later kid."

She could run and hide, Reina thought, go someplace far away and wait until everything was over or until she met her end at the maws of some demon when the end of the world really came. But where would she go? Home was such a distant concept now, her true family long since lost to the struggles between the mages and templars. For better or worse, the people here, the Inquisition, had begun to take on a sense of familiarity that she had never found in the world outside of her Circle. Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine were all waiting for her when she entered the war room, a mahogany paneled space at the heart of the Chantry. Before them lay a dusty book with the symbol of an eye pierced by a sword on its leather cover.

"Ahem," Cassandra cleared her throat, "I am pleased to see that you are awake. As you are well aware, we have taken to calling ourselves -"

"The Inquisition," Leliana finished for her.

"Yes. But this, here," Cassandra laid a gloved hand on the book at the center of the table, "is the order from Divine Justinia to her Right and Left Hands," she glanced at Leliana, "to establish the Inquisition of old."

"Yes," Leliana said, "While we have already started using its name, it is not until now, this moment that the Inquisition is formally declared. Lay your hands upon the book." One by one, Reina, Cassandra, Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine lay their hands upon the covers of the book.

"Whatever we were before," Leliana told them, "we are now the Inquisition."


	2. The Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always headcanon-ed that instead of facing Desire or Pride or one of the more commonly depicted demons for her Harrowing, my mage inquisitor had to face Despair - a fact that makes everything that happens during the game timeline much harder for her to deal with since Despair is one of those demons that, I believe, becomes more and more powerful as the game progresses.
> 
> Basically~ I envision Reina as having slightly depressive tendencies that just get amplified by all of the horror she ends up wading her way through by the end.
> 
> (Also what is a mage!inquis without at least a little bit of templar-phobia)

The first order of business had been to travel to the Hinterlands to meet with a Chantry sister, Mother Giselle, who was at the Crossroads helping care for the refugees from the mage-templar war the raged across the area. She had sent a message to the Inquisition asking to meet the Herald of Andraste, to judge for herself whether there was any truth in the rumors or whether Chancellor Roderick was justified in calling them upstart power-seekers. Leliana had already sent scouts ahead to set up camp and gain a feeling for the landscape of the area and Reina spent her last few days at Haven with the armorsmiths and apothecaries, trying to prepare as best she could to face the conflict she had been running from since its inception. Solas and Varric had been invaluable in keeping her spirits buoyed, sharing advice and telling her stories from their travels, and she began to rely on their emotional support more and more, feeling the bond of friendship outside of her Circle for the first time. Although Reina had initially felt wary of the elven apostate, her Circle training causing her to mistrust a mage who willfully forwent the formal magical education and structure of the Circles to study magic alone - from spirits no less - she had grown to rely on Solas' advice and guidance and slowly discovered that his wisdom and magical knowledge far exceeded the wisest and most talented of the Circle mages that trained her. After they had halted the spread of the Breach, Reina had sought out the elven mage as he aided Adan, the apothecary and alchemist, with the alchemical notes that Reina had found for him in the hut of Edan's former master. 

"This is it! The old codger was on the edge of a breakthrough and he didn't even realize it!" Adan was ecstatic as he greeted her, nearing spilling the misting blue contents of a vial of liquid on Reina's robes. "My apologies Herald, though you can understand my enthusiasm, of course?"

"There is no need to apologize. Though you may inform Harritt that he doesn't need to send people to sabotage my robes in order to convince me to switch to the battlemage armor he's forging. Knowing I'm not going to die from one of Bianca's stray arrows is persuasion enough." Reina and Solas laughed as Adan's expression changed from ecstatic to insulted in the span of a heartbeat.

"As if I would condescend to dealings with a man who thinks any problem can be solved with a hammer! That man has no appreciation for the finesse and brilliance required in alchemy. No appreciation!" Adan stormed out of his cabin, leaving a verbal trail of abuse in his wake. 

"This is?" Reina picked up a neatly corked bottle containing the misty blue concoction, uncorking it and sniffing gingerly. 

"You are a Circle mage. It should feel familiar to you," Solas replied, folding his hands calmly behind his back. The liquid did possess a familiar fragrance, its notes almost seeming auditory rather than herbal. "Reach out to it with your magic." Reina followed his instructions, letting her mana lap against the edges of the liquid. The moment it sensed her magic, the liquid began to sing. 

"It's-" Reina dropped the vial as if it were a poisonous snake, stepping back from it as its contents splashed across the elfroot strewn floor of the cabin.

"Lyrium," Solas finished, picking up a second vial, "only distilled to a much deeper potency and a slightly different frequency. One vial of this formula would cause an inexperienced templar to lose his mind." 

"So this is for the templar veterans? I will be sure to pass the good news on to Commander Cullen." Solas laughed softly.

"No, Herald. This is for you. And me. You should not be so fearful. As a mage, lyrium's song has no power over you. Your connection to the Fade ensures that." Reina remembered hearing about how mages at other Circles had made use of lyrium, ingesting it to borrow its power when casting complex and time consuming spells. The practice had been frowned upon at Ostwick, where the mages had been mostly concerned with controlling and shaping their powers in the service of the Maker, not amplifying them. 

"I see. I shall remember to give my thanks to Adan upon his return." Solas watched her expression curiously.

"You have been on the receiving end of lyrium's power." It was not a question. Reina didn't answer. "Yet you still support the Circles?" Solas sounded incredulous.

"They did what was necessary. It is most likely I owe those templars my life. You spoke of my connection to the Fade. You seem to know much of the Fade," Reina changed the subject. Solas didn't appear satisfied, but he allowed the conversation to shift away from lyrium and the templars of the Ostwick Circle.

"That is indeed the case," he replied, "I have learned many things while wandering the Fade. It is a rewarding if little pursued field of magical study - less flashy to be sure than throwing fireballs or summoning lightning - but there is much to be learned in ancient ruins and forgotten memories." While Reina did learn that their connection to the Fade was the source of a mage's power, like all Circle mages, she had also been taught to be wary and fearful of this connection, which was the same double edged sword that made careless mages susceptible to demonic possession.

"Isn't that dangerous? How do you know that what you see in the Fade is the truth and not the visions of some demon trying to entrap you?"

"In the Fade one often finds what one expects to find. If you expect a spirit to be a demon, it will become a demon for you. That is the problem with your kind - you fear what you do not understand and in your fear you twist justice into rage, wisdom into pride." His usually calm demeanor changed and his words became heated and sharp. Reina felt a sting of anger.

"My kind? Circle mages then? Those of us who view our powers as gifts from the Maker to be used in the service of our fellow man? Those of us who are not running rampant across Thedas tearing it apart with our magic?" Solas' answering laugh was cold.

"Is that not in itself a breed of ignorant arrogance? You believe you can fathom even the intent of the Maker himself!" his tone softened, "Forgive me, you are young and I should not expect wisdom which is not within the breadth of your years." Reina sighed and took his open hand with both of hers, irrationally feeling like a chastised child.

"No, forgive me, Solas," she apologized, "Perhaps you are right. The shattering of the Circles is evidence enough of that. If we had known more - if we had been less afraid of ourselves and each other -" She sighed again.

"I can share what I have learned, little as it is, with you, if you'd like?" Solas offered, giving her hands a friendly shake with his. Reina laughed and released his hand.

"I would like that. I should probably flee before Adan returns to see what I have done with the fruits of his labor." 

In the following days, Reina found herself spending long hours with Solas, listening to his stories about walking the Fade accompanied by spirits of wisdom and purpose. He recounted the visions of Kirkwall and Ferelden that he had witnessed in the Fade, which she cross-referenced with the stories of Varric and Threnn, a quartermaster sent to serve the Inquisition from Ferelden by King Alistair in part due to her ability and in part due to her unpopular political views on Loghain, the Teyrn who was beheaded for betraying his King. Under Solas' guidance, she learned to become more aware of the presence of the Fade as it moved and shifted around her and her dreams became increasingly lucid. She kept these lessons hidden from the watchful eyes of Cassandra - while Reina had grown to respect and admire the Seeker's tenacity and unshakable faith, she was still suspicious that the Seeker would not hesitate to have Solas exiled from Haven for corrupting the Herald of Andraste if Cassandra ever became aware of the unorthodox magical tutoring that was going on. Varric simply laughed. He may not understand the content of the lessons, but anything that would annoy the Seeker couldn't be a terrible turn of events.

\--

As the sun began to set on the last day before their departure, Reina found herself watching Cullen as he ran the troops through their paces for a final time before the evening meal. The Inquisition army could barely live up to that name. It was a ragtag bunch of volunteers and raw recruits, former farmers and craftsmen many of whom were holding a shield and sword for the first time in their lives. The only experienced soldiers were those who had followed Cullen from Kirkwall like his second in command Knight-Captain Rylain and a scarred Lieutenant who looked at Cullen like she would follow the Commander into the depths of Hell itself. She wondered how the Commander could bear the unquestioning faith and obedience of his men so lightly - some nights she still awoke shaking, the warm slickness of the blood of the soldiers who died during the assault on the Breach phantoming on her hands.

"You there! There's a shield in your hand. Block with it!" Cullen shouted at the recruits as he walked along the sparring lines. "If that man were your enemy you'd be dead already!"

Seeing Reina approach, he beckoned to the Lieutenant. "Lieutenant! Don't go easy on them. These troops need to prepare for a real fight, not a practice one."

"Yessir!" she saluted before returning to the monitor the sparring lines, correcting a grip here, a posture there.

"Herald," Cullen greeted Reina. "We've received a number of new recruits - locals from Haven and some pilgrims. None made quite the entrance you did." A half smile formed on his lips as he crossed his arms. Reina laughed.

"I'm afraid I didn't have much of a say in the matter, ser. Or much of a say in anything that has transpired."

He laughed, a quiet sound that rippled through his chest. "That's true enough. I was recruited into the Inquisition at Kirkwall myself. I was there during the mage uprising - I saw first hand the devastation that it caused." As he spoke, he walked towards a cluster of tents behind the sparring soldiers, pulling out a quill to sign a report from an approaching scout. "Cassandra sought a solution and, when she offered me a position, I joined her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse."

Reina glanced at him. He seemed so solid and secure with the reddish brown fur that ringed his armor giving him the aspect of a lion, proud and fierce and protecting. Cassandra, and even Solas, in his quiet, unassuming way, also seemed so certain, so sure about what they needed to do despite the world falling apart around them. 

"You're a good general, ser," she said, "Your soldiers trust you." Cullen laughed again.

"No, well, yes, but the one they really trust is you, Herald. It's their faith in you that gives them the strength to face demons and nightmares head on." Reina sighed. Men like Cullen did not seem to realize that faith is as much a burden as it is a gift. The faith of the people of Haven was like a noose around her neck - tightening every time she tried to escape, to turn away, until all she could see was the face of Despair, rotting into icy oblivion.

"Can I confess something?" 

"What is it?"

"Everytime I see anything dangerous coming my way I've half a mind to just drop everything and flee the scene. I'm afraid their faith is misplaced." She rested a hand lightly on Cullen's elbow. "How do you do it? You and Cassandra and Rylain? You face death and terror everyday head on without even flinching."

"Well," Cullen thought for a moment, "they do say practice makes perfect. Though that's a quaint way of putting facing danger to say the least. More importantly, I believe, is that we know what we are fighting for. Who we are fighting for." He smiled at her. "You're talking to an ex-templar without shaking, that's a first step." It was Reina's turn to laugh.

"I should apologize, ser, for my reaction at our first meeting. I'm afraid that, ever since the rebellion, I've spent my days being fearful of my own shadow. I'd forgotten what it was like to be around people who would not either try to kill me or be terrified of me once they found out I was a mage. The templars at Ostwick were hardly anything like the stories about the ones at Kirk-" she cut herself short when she realized the blunder she had made. The half smile had disappeared from Cullen's face, but there wasn't any anger in his voice as he responded.

"I was in Ferelden, Kinloch, when the abominations attacked. Afterwards I was transferred to Kirkwall. After what happened at Kinloch, I knew too well the suffering magic can inflict and, because of it, I've treated mages with suspicion, at times without cause. That was unworthy of me. I will endeavor not to do so in the future."

"The fault was on both sides," Reina mustered up a smile as the memories of the events leading up to the fall of Ostwick Circle came to her mind, "Perhaps after all of this is over they will come to see that. At this point -" She sighed.

"This is why we're needed. The Chantry lost control of both the templars and mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot. Our followers could be part of that. There's so much we can -" Cullen's voice was filled with conviction. "Forgive me," he broke off, "I doubt you came here for a lecture." Reina smiled.

"And the lion roars," she murmured to herself. Cullen looked at her quizzically and she coughed. "No, that was exactly what I came for. Thank you for the rousing lecture Commander. Please do go on." Cullen laughed, the sound quickly becoming both familiar and comforting.

"Another time perhaps. I uh -" he cleared his throat, "There's still a lot of work ahead." As he was speaking, a scout came up to him with a report on the Inquisition supply line. Cullen's lips twisted into a wry smile as he turned to receive the report. "As I was saying." Reina found herself feeling heartened and comforted by his earnesty and honest faith. This was the kind of templar-knight she remembered from growing up at Ostwick. While they had always kept a distance from the mages in their charge, Reina had drawn comfort rather than fear from their presence, their tireless faith and vigilence inspiring her and some of the other mages to continue to seek the Maker even through the seductive whispers of the power of magic. Magic is meant to serve man. Not to rule over him. And, for all her cowardice and weakness, she would serve.

\--

"One down!" Reina shouted as she dispatched an apostate with a quick burst of lightning from her staff. The man's lifeless form crumpled to the ground in a miserable heap. With Cassandra's training and Solas' guidance as well as ample practice in battle against the apostate mages and templars that riddled the Hinterlands, Reina was quickly becoming adept at using the magic she had studied at the Circles in battle. She and Varric had become an almost seamless team, with Reina slowing a target's movements with ice spells before Varric pierced them with Bianca's bolts. After meeting with Mother Giselle at the Crossroads, they had set out to rout the bases of the templars and apostate mages that ravaged the region. None of the fights had been easy. The templars had attacked at once upon seeing Reina and Solas with their staves, leaving them with barely enough time to react and defend themselves before the hilly encampment lay strewn with corpses. The mages had been confused at first, unsure whether or not Reina and Solas were fellow apostates, and Reina had tried to reason with them, but the moment the words "Inquisition" and "Chantry" fell from her lips, a flaming fireball flew at her, diffused only by a well timed spell from Solas. Reina had surprised her companions with her easy ruthlessness, barely flinching as she used her spells to devastate her opponents, but seeing the refugees in the Hinterlands, seeing the burned remnants of houses and farmland had returned her to that horrible day when the only family she had ever known burned to ashes before her eyes. Varric was right - she was too weak, too irresolute to face this constant stream of nightmares and memories. So, instead, Reina kept Despair at bay the only way she knew how, by clenching her mind around her rage, the relentless, all-consuming rage of a halla cornered by hunters, wielding her horns without mercy or guilt. 

Varric whistled as Reina finished off the apostate leader with a well timed immolate. 

"Looks like I misjudged you, Kitten. You've got plenty of fire in that tiny frame." Reina grimaced as she rested against the walls of the cave and checked on a smouldering burn on her shoulder.

"Thank you? Plenty of fire but no stamina - I'm afraid I'm exhausted." She felt her legs give way as the adrenaline from the battle drained from her body. 

"It's been a long day. Let's head back to camp," Cassandra helped Reina up from the damp cave ground. 

Their days fell into a constant, if not easy, rhythm, rising with the sun to travel to every corner of the Hinterlands, clearing out rebels, fighting demons, and securing necessary resources for the Inquisition like horses and logging sites. Finally, with the safety and comfort of the refugees secured and handed over to newly arrived Inquisition forces, Mother Giselle was ready to return with them to Haven to advise them on how they could potentially win over the Chantry. 

So it was that the next day's dawn saw them riding, travel worn and filthy, through the ranks of recruits beginning their early morning training. In two quick strides, Cullen was in front of Reina's horse, taking hold of its reins with an expression of relief that quickly disappeared into a mask of professionalism.

"Herald, the Inquisition welcomes your return." He helped her from the saddle, supporting her with his armored arms as she stumbled on hitting the ground.

"Thank you Commander," Reina smiled, "Maker I'm exhausted." Remembering her responsibilities, she stepped back from Cullen to gesture towards the sister in Chantry vestments that had accompanied her. "Commander Cullen may I present Mother Giselle, a sister of the Chantry."

"Revered Mother." Cullen nodded at the woman. "I have already sent a messenger to Leliana and Josephine. They should be awaiting us in the war room." Reina sighed.

"So much for a bath and a nap in an actual bed." Cullen seemed taken aback.

"My apologies Herald, I hadn't - That is the matters at hand are urgent."

"You're a soldier, ser," Reina removed her travel stained gloves and smoothed her hair, "and I suppose I must learn to become one." She stopped a passing soldier. "Lieutenant Rylain is it?"

"Yessir," Rylain responded, saluting her.

"Could I trouble you to ensure that the Revered Mother is properly accommodated? We have had a long journey." Rylain saluted her again before leading Mother Giselle towards Haven's gates.

"This is not the steed you set out with. Were you able to contact the horsemaster?" Cullen asked her as they stabled and brushed down the chestnut mare. Reina nodded.

"He needs a few days to settle affairs at his farm after which he'll come to Haven with a herd of his best horses. She was a gift."

"Thank the Maker. Decent horses will make a big difference."

"Good soldiers an even bigger one," Reina glanced at the sparring recruits as they walked towards the town gates. "You've done a wonderful job Commander."

"We still do not know who or what is behind the Breach and they need to be prepared."

"What will happen to me when it is all over?" The hand Reina lay on Cullen's arm as they stood outside of the Chantry doors was trembling. 

"You are the Herald of Andraste. Men will look to you for guidance as we rebuild." She sighed.

"All because of a mark on my hand that I never asked for. I'm sorry," she laughed, "I was never much of a hero." So saying, she pushed open the doors to the war room, smiling as she greeted Leliana and Josephine.


	3. Val Royeaux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos~ I haven't written anything besides Econ papers in a long long time, so there are a lot of growing pains involved in this fic. I'm more inclined to write from Reina's perspective, but I think it also helps to have some chapters written with Cullen's POV so the chapters will hop a bit between the two.
> 
> Full disclaimer: I am a huge Vivienne fangirl and generally see my characters aligning with her perspective on Circles and magic. Also that conversation where a mage!inquis tells Cullen "thirteen is so young!" never exactly made sense to me since mages are taken to Circles at much younger ages.

It was scarcely a fortnight before Reina left Haven again, this time for Val Royeaux to try to convince the remaining clerics that the Inquisition was not a heretical upstart competing with Chantry authority, but rather a potential ally seeking to align itself with Chantry interests. Like everything else since the Breach opened in the sky, little had gone according to plan. Cullen read the reports from Leliana's spies as he supervised the stabling of the new horses brought to Haven by Horsemaster Dennet - reports about templars attacking a Revered Mother and leaving Val Royeaux, about being approached by a mysterious underground organization called Red Jenny, about an invitation from the Court Enchanter, about an overture of alliance from the mages.

"Worried for the Herald?" Leliana approached him, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Any of these could be a trap."

"Indeed. She's a pretty little thing, too pretty by half, don't tell me you haven't noticed," Leliana's eyes watched him closely as she spoke.

"I uh- I'm not sure- Maker's breath Leliana."

"I mean it, Cullen. She never asked for any of this. She has too much softness about her to make the decisions that we need her to. She's not like Hawke - she does all of this because she doesn't have a choice, we forced it upon her. But we need her," Leliana sighed, "Only two things can come of this."

"What two things?"

"She will either break or grow. Both are too cruel."

\--

It was with an intense sense of relief that, two weeks later, Cullen watched the Herald ride back to Haven, accompanied with two new companions - a rogue-ish elf girl who rode next to Varric, the two of them trading bawdy jokes, and an elegant figure bearing the staff of the First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle. The Herald seemed more at ease than he had ever known her as she talked quietly with the First Enchanter, the two of them unintentionally excluding everyone else with an unseen intimacy that he couldn't understand until he remembered what he had heard from Josephine about the First Enchanter's support of the Circles of Magi and how she had once been a member of the Ostwick Circle herself.

It wasn't long before a messenger arrived telling him that the Herald had summoned him to the war room. When he pushed open the doors, the girl who greeted him from the other side of the table was at once foreign and familiar. The same long black hair curled around her soldiers, framing her bright green eyes. The same faint scent of the Fade and incense drifted from her skin. But there was something in how she carried herself, an extra steeliness in the straightness of her spine that spoke of some newfound determination. Leliana was right - she would either need to grow or break. She had chosen to grow.

"The mages have asked for an alliance. Grand Enchanter Lydia, the leader of the apostates, has invited the Inquisition to Redcliffe to discuss the potential of a partnership. Based on Leliana's reports, it seems that the templars have retreated to Therinfal Redoubt for reasons that are still unknown. I -" she paused, "it seems we only have the resources necessary to approach one side. Which side?"

"Solas said that the Breach was formed through magic and might be reversed through a similar source of magic. His theories have not been wrong so far," Cassandra pointed a gloved finger at Redcliffe on the map. Cullen considered the possibility, remembering the abominations that tore Kinloch apart. Some of the former templars at Kirkwall had chosen to follow him to Haven to join the Inquisition, but not enough, definitely not enough to deal with whatever abominations may arise from the arrival of an entire army of mages. Especially since he had already relinquished his templar's powers.

"Templars can suppress magic," he heard himself saying, "Approach the templars. They will serve just as well as if not better than the mages."

"We will need much influence to even think of approaching the templars," Josephine answered, "I can begin writing to our noble allies, few as they are, to ask them to bring pressure to bear on the Lord Seeker, but it will be difficult. Very difficult."

"The mages have asked for an alliance," Leliana spoke up, "we may as well go to Redcliffe and hear their terms."

"Yes," the Herald folded her gloved hands and Cullen noticed that her voice did not waver as she made her decision, as if a mere two weeks had changed her from a young girl living in the shadow of a terrifying reality to a Herald determined to lead. "Tomorrow I will bring Vivienne, Solas, and Cassandra with me to meet the mages at Redcliffe. Solas is an elven apostate - his presence should put them at ease. As the leader of the loyal mages, Vivienne will show them what is expected of them if they take our proferred hand. And Cassandra's presence," she nodded at the Seeker, "will tell them we mean business. If we do ally, it will be on our terms, not theirs." For a moment, a bare flash of anger betrayed itself in her voice, and Cullen remembered that she blamed the rebel mages as much as the templars for everything that had happened to her.

As they left the war room, she fell into stride beside him, and he eased his pace to accomodate her shorter stride.

"I promise I will approach the templars as soon as I can, Commander," she said. "I just," she hesitated, "As much as I blame them, I do feel sympathy for why the apostates felt they needed to rebel. And if the Inquisition can give them a chance, I want to."

Cullen stopped walking and turned to face her, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder as a gesture of understanding.

"I understand, Herald. If the positions of the mages and the templars were reversed I would wish the same." She smiled, the sweetness of it catching his breath in his chest.

"Thank you Commander. I'm sure Leliana has kept you briefed you on all of our other exploits in Val Royeaux. I cannot see a crow or raven without feeling as if I should be on my best behavior. But tell me, ser, what do you make of our new companions?"

"I fear we shall never have a moment's of rest since you've set that elf-girl, Sera was it, loose on the Inquisition." He heard her laugh her agreement, a soft sound like the tapping of rain on a window. "As for Madame Vivienne - you seem to like her."

"You don't?"

"I, uh - I don't have much patience for nobles, particularly Orlesian nobles."

"Oh?" She sounded genuinely surprised. "I had heard of you before, of course, you and Cassandra are both quite the heroic figures, but I was not aware that you were not of noble birth. I suppose I just assumed."

"No, my family owned a mill in the Free Marches. Most of my education was received from the Templars."

"How old were you when you joined?" Cullen cast his mind back to his childhood in the Free Marches, trying to recapture the youthful idealism he had felt when he was first initiated as a templar.

"I was thirteen when they took me."

"So young."

"Hardly. You must have been no more than eight when they took you to the Circle."

"Six," she corrected him, "but it's different for a mage. Without the proper supervision I could have endangered myself, endangered my family." They walked in silence for a while before the Herald spoke again. "That is why I like Vivienne, you know? She understands. So many mages don't understand how dangerous they can be, how dangerous they are."

"That doesn't justify the actions of the templars at Kirkwall." He never expected to be on this side of the argument, especially not with a mage.

"No, it doesn't, but the Circles could have been reformed from within. They still can be reformed. Vivienne helped me see that." Cullen began to understand her newfound conviction, remembering his advice on overcoming fear in the battlefield - knowing who or what you are fighting for.

"You seem more relaxed. Despite the hard decisions ahead of us."

"I suppose it's because I've started to look and think beyond myself, beyond my own pain and loss. Talking to Vivienne helped - she knew Lydia, my mentor - and it was almost like hearing Lydia's advice again. Oh, Vivienne is harder, sharper than Lydia ever could have been, but they both understood the importance of using their power, magical or otherwise, to serve the Maker and improve the world."

"Perhaps I've misjudged Orlesian nobility then." The Herald laughed at his admission.

"Hardly, Commander. Vivienne is more like you than any of those nobles. Her family was quite poor. It was only through her own hardwork and force of will that she rose to her current position."

"Are you calling me shrewd, Your Worship?" Cullen couldn't help the half smile that he felt forming about his lips. Instead of responding to his teasing, however, the Herald answered earnestly.

"No, not at all. You're the Commander of the Inquisition because of your faith - because the terrible things you saw and endured at Kinloch and Kirkwall made you kinder and stronger instead of breaking you and making you bitter. Your kindness towards me, a mage, testifies to that. I - I don't know what exactly you experienced, but I can imagine and I am ashamed that I nearly let my burdens destroy me. I am not the hero you or anyone here deserves, but I promise to try."

"That is all we ask." Cullen watched her walk away with a feeling of both pride and sadness. She was still the uncertain, frightened girl who had confided in him, but she had learned to face her fears instead of flee from them. But, in doing so, she was allowing them, him, to shape her into a weapon of the Inquisition, hardening all of her soft laughter and pretty smiles until they were sharp edges.

\--

"I think our Commander has a type," Leliana teased as she waltzed into Cullen's office, a report on Lord Seeker Lucius clasped behind her back. "Don't deny it, I saw your little tête à tête with our dear Herald after the meeting at the War Room." Cullen narrowed his eyes at her and sighed.

"You saw or one of your spies decided on a new career as a gossip."

"One and the same Commander. My spies are my eyes and ears. And I have heard the most interesting stories about the Hero of Ferelden."

"They're both noble-born mages and both heroes. That's where the similarities end. Elissa was a woman of duty, a Warden who chose to bear the burden of the world upon her shoulders. I do not deny I admired her for that. Rei - the Herald, is just a kind-hearted young girl who is trying to survive the fate that was thrust upon her." Leliana smirked as she dropped the report on Cullen's desk before leaving.

"I see you have thought extensively about this, Commander," she tossed over her shoulder. Cullen massaged his temples as he sat down to review the report. Conversations with Leliana were like verbal chess games and she always cheated, invariably getting what she wanted. The report on the Lord Seeker was simply a repeat of what he had already known about the man; however, Leliana's note about the mages of Redcliffe at the end of the report made Cullen pause. _According to agents stationed around Redcliffe_ , Leliana wrote, _Grand Enchanter Fiona has never once left the environs of the town. Meeting with Herald at V.R. highly suspect. Secret passage? Imposter? Will attempt to sneak agents into Redcliffe for meeting._


	4. Redcliffe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Leliana is always right and Cullen has more baggage than an airport luggage carousel

The Herald and her companions rode out early the next morning, passing through Haven's gates bathed in the bloody light of the rising sun. Cullen watched their retreating figures with a sense of unease he recognized from years of sending men into potential ambushes in battle. 

"Have you read Leliana's report?" he had asked her while helping her onto her mare. The Herald had nodded, her hands trembling slightly as they gripped the reins, but her eyes determined and her lips smiling.

"I am prepared for what may come Commander. Besides," she laughed, "I have Madame de Fer, the mistress of subterfuge and the Great Game, riding into battle with me."

"I am at your service, darling," Vivienne had responded, "Besides, what is the worst a mob of rustic apostate mages can come up with? I would be surprised if the word subtlety even existed in their vocabularies."

Apostate mages were nothing to be feared, but the Tevinter Imperium, it turned out, still had its mastery of the tricks of sleight of hand. The Herald's first report, smuggled out by a raven, exceeded even Cullen's deepest fears. _Time magic. Grand Enchanter Fiona never met with us. T.E. was here first._ She wrote in her delicate, precise handwriting. _Ironically our only allies here are Tevinters. The magister's former pupil and only son. Tell Commander Cullen not to worry. That is an order. Between two of the most talented Circle mages of our age and an elven apostate more talented than both of us combined a little time magic shouldn't be hard to figure out. May need backup._ Despite her assurances, Cullen and Leliana had spent the entire night planning scout and troop movements and sending missives to every Inquisition encampment in the Hinterlands. The next message from the Herald arrived two days later after most of the troops were positioned to enter Redcliffe at the earliest opportunity. The forward scouts Leliana had sent into Redcliffe with the Herald had identified a secret underground passageway that offered direct access to the tavern where the Tevinter Magister, Alexius, and the Herald were holding negotiations. _Final negotiation with magister scheduled for three days from now. Hope troops are ready. Must act immediately._ The message was scribbled on the torn page of a book hurriedly, the letters all crowding each other in their urgency. Leliana had left Haven immediately to lead the Inquisition infiltration herself, leaving Cullen and Josephine to worry and await further word with helpless anxiety. 

\--

The night before the scheduled negotiations, Cullen had a nightmare. His past nightmares had all been the same, torturous dreams reliving his agony in the hands of the demons at Kirkwall. This time, he dreamed that he was in full armor standing before a burning city he vaguely recognized as Val Royeaux surrounded by the screams of his dying men. Abominations and templars covered in red lyrium tore through the ranks of the defending forces as an army of demons and darkspawn flooded into the city behind him. To his side, he saw Lysette slumped forward, impaled upon a spear black with her blood, her lifeless eyes accusing him for bringing her to such an end. He tried to raise his shield arm, but a sharp pain let him know that it was beyond use. Raising his sword, he rallied the remaining troops, yelling, "For the Herald!" As he spoke, he recalled the memory of a bloody note falling from his shaking fingers and sleepless nights remembering a sweet smile, a pair of impossibly green eyes. Was this the end? he thought as his strength flagged and the strokes of his sword became slower and slower. He could barely see through the stream of blood trickling down his face. I couldn't protect Thedas. I couldn't protect the Inquisition. I couldn't protect her. He barely felt the sword as it pierced his broken armor and nestled between his ribs. Reina, was his final thought as he startled to wakefulness, his sheets soaked through with sweat. The moon had barely advanced in the sky yet Cullen felt like a year had passed since he had fallen asleep. Pulling on his boots and throwing on his fur cape, Cullen paced along the frozen river, trying to reassemble his shattered thoughts. Trying to navigate the twists and turns of his nightmare, he came to one dreadful realization. Of course Leliana was right - Leliana was always right. He had known too, the moment he had set eyes on the Herald, only he had been too much of a coward to face the possibility. 

Josephine found him sitting in the War Room in the morning, his hands clasped in silent prayer as he used them to support the weight of his head. She also looked tired and drawn as if sleep had eluded her the night before, but she found a smile for him as she pulled out a heavy stack of reports.

"I had wondered why Varric called you 'Curly.' I may now declare my curiosity satisfied." Cullen ran a hand ruefully through his unbrushed hair. 

"Please don't tell Leliana." Josephine laughed.

"Trust me when I say she probably already knows." Cullen groaned as they set to work, occupying themselves with requisitions and offers of alliance as distractions from the burden of waiting for news from Redcliffe. When a raven finally arrived, Cullen nearly tore its legs from its body in his haste to retrieve the note it carried. 

"Gently, Cullen," Josephine admonished as the raven gave Cullen a peck of annoyance before flying off. His hands shaking, Cullen unrolled the message which contained only two sentences. _All is well. Mages secured._

"Thank the Maker." Cullen felt his legs weaken and leaned on the war table to steady himself. Next to him, he heard Josephine clasp her hands together and breathe a sigh of relief. The next two days were spent in the hazy warmth that comes with deep relief. While Josephine busied herself reviewing the terms of the alliance with the mages that the Herald had sent ahead of their arrival, Cullen briefed the remaining templars, bracing them for the potential presence of abominations and mages at risk of possession. 

\--

Watching the Herald ride into Haven surrounded by her companions, Cullen felt a sense of completeness that he hadn't realized he could still feel, that he still wasn't sure he should allow himself to feel. She looked tired, but unhurt, an unfamiliar mage in flashy armor riding beside her. 

"That must be Dorian Pavus, Altus mage and heir to Magister Pavus of the Imperium," Josephine sighed dreamily as the travelers drew closer. "In her missives, the Herald neglected to mention that he was so _handsome_." The two mages did make a lovely pair, Cullen admitted grudgingly, the Tevinter's irreverent attractiveness and dangerous smile providing a striking contrast to the Herald's delicate features and bright laughter. 

"Commander," the Herald greeted him as he approached. Despite her smile, there was something not quite right about her demeanor, a faraway look hidden behind her eyes that formed a wall around her. 

"The Inquisition rejoices at the news of your victory, Your Worship," Josephine offered the Herald a thick scroll of parchment, "however, the Council still awaits your presence to deliberate on the terms of the alliance." The ambassador's eyes lingered for a moment on Grand Enchanter Fiona and the array of mages before she courtseyed and took her leave. As Cullen made a move to help her from her mare, the Herald secured the parchment in her saddlebag and drew back, bringing distance between the two of them.

"I can manage Commander," despite her smile, the Herald's expression was formal and removed, "please notify Seeker Cassandra and Sister Leliana that I will make my way to the war room as soon as I have seen to the accommodations of our guests."

"As you wish." Cullen bowed and left to seek out Cassandra and Leliana, feeling inexplicably stung. Behind him, he heard the Tevinter mage refusing the Herald's invitation to the council meeting, 

"As much as I adore good circular arguments, this trial is yours alone my dear Herald. After everything, I feel an urge to discover what kind of backwater wash passes as a fine vintage for my southern neighbors."


	5. The Training Yard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the semester has started and I've almost caught up to what I have pre-written so updates are going to slow down a bit from now on~
> 
> all my apologies!

Reina stood outside of the war room with a looming sense of dread. Cassandra had made no secret her disapproval of the relatively lenient terms that Reina had offered the rebel mages. Even Vivienne had frowned as Reina closed the negotiations,  
"Darling," she had said, eyeing their new allies with distrust, "I'm afraid that you have made a very grave mistake." Only Solas had been pleased in his quiet way, praising Reina on her willingness to forgive the mages for their mistakes, promising her that time would prove the wisdom of her choices. Yet, Reina knew that even she was not satisfied with this outcome. She had simply lacked the willpower and resolve to capitalize on the rebel mages' mistakes to push as hard as she should have. After what she and Dorian had witnessed she had been too tired, was still too tired. If it hadn't been for Dorian, Reina shuddered, she may have finally lost herself to Despair, driven to insanity under the burden of the future that would have been hers alone to bear. Even now, closing her eyes, she could still see her friends, their voices and faces disfigured by the corruption of red lyrium, asking her if she were a ghost, a vision come to haunt their ends. She could still envision Leliana's broken body as she desperately bought Dorian time to unravel the nightmarish future that had entrapped them. Even more terrifying were the absences, nowhere in the cells had Reina seen Josephine or Varric or Sera or Cullen. She had felt the questions pressing against her tongue and had swallowed them again. If she didn't know, she could pretend that they were still alive somewhere out there in this terrifying future, yet, as much as Reina was able to convince herself of the survival of the others, she had known that Cullen was dead. Her golden commander, whose warrior's hands and lion's strength hid a kindness and gentleness that made Reina ashamed of her own weak bitterness, would not have survived the last lines of resistance against the mysterious Elder One Alexius had served. He would have died defending the fading world in the name of a Herald who did not deserve his faith. 

The sound of heated arguing greeted Reina as she entered the room, her advisors standing around the war table, glaring at the alliance that she had signed and sealed with furrowed brows. 

"You should have consulted us first." Cassandra was still livid. Ever the diplomat, Josephine was more circumspect, but there was no mistaking her agreement with the Seeker's frustration.

"The terms of this alliance are not very beneficial to the Inquisition." Cullen was silent. Reina felt the waves of exhaustion threaten to overwhelm her. Under the circumstances, she had done her best. None of them had remembered, the terrible future dissipating for them like a forgotten nightmare, but she had to live with the knowledge of what her failure would cost them. Perhaps Cassandra would have been stronger, less distraught after returning through the time rift, perhaps Josephine would have been shrewder, Leliana wiser, but Reina had never asked to be the one to make these decisions and to bear these burdens. It was unfair. 

"I did my best!" she found herself shouting, tears burning behind her eyes, "You were there Cassandra. The situation was - unorthodox." Reina turned her back towards them, facing the war room door so they couldn't see her tears. She felt strong hands gripping her shoulders as her shaking slowly stilled and smelled the familiar scent of mountain air and steel tinged with lyrium. 

"I -" Cassandra sounded takenaback as she broke the tense silence following Reina's outburst, "I did not mean to blame you, though I can see how my words could be taken as such. Regardless, you have won us a great victory today." Reina dried her tears and stepped away from Cullen's grip, forcing a smile.

"My apologies, Cassandra. The events -" she paused, "what happened has left me feeling strained. Nothing some sleep will not cure." 

"Speaking of these events," Leliana placed a marker upon Val Royeaux on the war table map, "I am more curious about what the Herald has witnessed in this future. You spoke about the assassination of Empress Celene?"

"If this Elder One's aim is to restore the Tevinter Imperium, a leaderless Orlais would leave the ambitions of the Imperium upon Thedas unchecked," Josephine responded, making notes on a sheet of parchment. Cullen stepped away from Reina and returned to his position across the war table.

"I am more concerned about this demon army Alexius spoke of. It has only been a decade since the last Blight - for another one to occur so soon -" he shook his head, "it does not bear thinking of."

"We will need to make preparations. I will have my agents in Val Royeaux look into any potential assassination plots. Our scouts on the Storm Coast have reported no sign of the Grey Wardens, but I will order them to continue searching." Leliana stepped out of the war room, followed by Cassandra and Josephine. 

"Are you alright?" Cullen crouched down in front of Reina as she rested her back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. 

"I will be. I have to be." She remembered Varric's stories about Hawke, the larger than life figure the Hero of Kirkwall cast upon the memories of those who knew her. Though the dwarf had claimed that he did not know the true intent behind Cassandra's search for the hero, Reina suspected that he had guessed at the truth behind the Seeker's desperation and had remained silent in order to spare his friend the fate that now fell upon Reina's shoulders. During moments like this, she desperately wished that Cassandra had been successful in her interrogation. Even if the burden of the Mark was still hers, it would have been immeasurably relieving to have a true hero undertake the mantle of leadership. 

"If there is anything I can do to help, you have but to say the word," Cullen rested a gauntleted hand upon Reina's shoulder, his grip firm and comforting, "You've felt -" he paused, "distant."

"There is quite a lot on my mind." Cullen helped her to her feet.

"I hadn't noticed." His lips curved into their distinctive half smile, "Perhaps hitting something might help."

"Or burn up all of Haven. Haven't you realized, ser, that we mages never settle for half measures?" She hadn't realized how much she loved his laugh, the quiet rumbling sound easing her strained nerves. 

"No staves. You need to hit something the old-fashioned way like a proper soldier."

The sun was setting as they approached the training grounds, casting a final rosy glow of warmth on the snow covered cabins and gentle hills. A feeling of homecoming flooded over Reina as she took in the now familiar sights and sounds - the bawdy singing drifting through the cracked doors of the tavern, the ringing of hammer upon anvil coming from the blacksmith's forges, the earthy smell of horses as they passed by the stables. Slowly, but surely, Haven had become her home, its townsfolk and soldiers as familiar as the mages and templars of her broken Circle, and Reina had long ceased feeling like an interloper simply passing through. 

"Here we are," Cullen smiled as he set Reina in front of a straw-stuffed dummy, "Use mine." As he spoke, he drew his sword, its steel blade whispering against the sheath, the lion's head pommel shining in the torchlight. The sword weighed heavily in Reina's hands, and her first swing barely brushed the dummy. Behind her, she heard Cullen laugh softly before a pair of strong arms encircled her from behind, adjusting her grip on the blade. 

"Like this," Cullen raised her arms to strike at the dummy, supporting the weight of the sword with his own unwavering grip. The easy familiarity of the gesture broke the walls of protocol and formality that had given shape to their relationship and Reina found herself relaxing into his loose embrace, allowing him to guide her fumbling attempts at swordsmanship. It wasn't long before she had learned to swing the heavy blade without stumbling, although mastery was still far from her grasp. Under Cullen's patient tutelage, Reina struck the dummy again and again until all of the strain of the past week melted under a feeling of overwhelming soreness and physical exhaustion. 

"Feel better?" he smiled as he took his sword from her and returned it to its sheath. 

"Much. Thank you, Commander."

"Cullen." Reina glanced up at him as she brushed back her sweat drenched hair.

"Pardon?" He took a step back and looked away from her, the confident familiarity from earlier replaced by a flustered uneasiness. 

"Th- That is, you can call me Cullen. If - If you'd like." Her golden commander slain by a demon's blade, dying for a faithless Herald.

"I appreciate the," Reina paused, "gesture. But it hardly seems appropriate, I am sure you would agree, Commander." She heard a sharp intake of breath before he responded.

"My apologies, Herald. You are correct."

"Besides," Reina rested a hand upon his arm, trying to soften her refusal, "I like 'Commander.' It sounds so _imposing_." He took the friendly jest for what it was and Reina was relieved to see his posture relaxing.

"You're beginning to sound like Leliana." Reina laughed, fondly patting the straw target of her previous abuse back into shape.

"Good. Our dear spymaster does have a way with words." 

"That," she heard Cullen choke on a laugh, "is the understatement of the century." 

The evening chill had already settled into the training grounds and the frost on the cobblestones glimmered under the silver moonlight. Reina glanced in the direction of the tavern where the strains of a Ferelden drinking song could be made out in the raucously drunken voices. 

"I should go fetch Dorian before he offends half of Haven just by being himself." As much as the Tevinter mage professed his adoration for his quaint southern cousins, his adoring attitude could better be described as condescending and sarcastic, something that was better left untested on the proud soldiers and dog lords that filled Haven.

"Speaking of which," Cullen paused, "In your report you never mentioned what happens to those of us who were left behind at Haven." What happens to me? The unspoken question hung heavily in the night air. Reina drew a sharp breath and gasped, choking on the biting cold of the winter evening. He was at her side in a moment, gently easing her wheezing breaths.

"I don't know. I imagine you were all alive, out there, somewhere." It was a lie and she knew he heard it in her voice. There was a pause, as if he were hesitating on whether or not to test the fabric of her lie, trying to decide if the truth were something he genuinely wanted to know. Reina cast about her mind, searching for a change of conversation before he could push her further on the events at Redcliffe.

"Our Ambassador informed me that we are almost ready to approach the templars at Therinfal. I am certain that is welcome news to you." She felt a sense of relief as she saw his hesitation turn into enthusiasm.

"That is good to hear. I may not agree with the Order's actions - that I am here is proof of that - but I do sympathize with their frustrations. The Chantry has come to take the Order's services for granted - templars risk their lives against blood magic, demons, abominations - to feel as if those efforts are dismissed ..." 

"We may hope that we are wiser than the Chantry," Reina smiled, "It may help to know more about the Order before I meet the Lord Seeker for negotiations. I - I am eager to avoid a repeat of my mistakes at Redcliffe." A reassuring hand squeezed her shoulder.

"You did your best, Herald, and that is all we can ask of you. If you would like to know what the Order is doing now, I'm afraid I have little insight to give. Anything else, and I will answer to the best of my ability." Prior to the events at Kinloch, the mages of Reina's Circle had lived in a tacit companionship with their templars. However, while the templars were present, albeit by necessity, at each major milestone of a mage's life, the mages were kept at arm's length from the rituals and traditions of the Order, leaving Reina feeling uneasily ignorant of their way of life.

"Do templars take vows? 'I swear to the Maker to watch all of the mages' - that sort of thing?" She heard Cullen laugh, amused by her blunt interpretation of the purpose behind the Order.

"Nothing quite as extreme as that. There's a vigil first. You're meant to be at peace during that time, but your life is about to change. When it's over, you give yourself to a life of service. That's when you're given a philter - your first draught of lyrium - and it's power. As templars, we are not meant to seek wealth or acknowledgement. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen." In the back of her mind, Reina vaguely remembered shreds of conversation she had overheard as she went about her days at Haven - the whispers and laughter of young lovers some of whom she could have sworn were among the ranks of former templars that had followed Cullen from Kirkwall.

"A life of service and sacrifice well worth respecting. Are," she paused, "templars also expected to give up other aspects of life outside of the Order? Physical temptations, for example?" She saw Cullen flush, his face burning under the torchlight, and realized how easily mistaken her question could be, feeling the warmth of an answering blush creeping along her cheeks. 

"Physical?" Cullen's voice was strained, as if he were choking back an urge to flee the scene of her interrogation, "Why ..." he cleared his throat, "Why would you ... That's not expected. Templars can marry - though there are rules around it, and the Order must grant permission. Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it's, um, not required." Regaining his composure, he answered Reina's question in carefully measured tones, staring at the tavern entrance, the frozen cobblestones, anywhere but at Reina's now burning face. Trying to find her own lost composure, Reina was about to explain her line of questioning when a drunken Tevinter accent slurred,

"I think, what our dear Herald really wants to know is, have you taken any such vows, Commander." The surprise of the interruption startled Cullen into answering honestly,

"Me?" He folded his arms defensively across his chest, the rattle of armor mingling with the lively chatter of the tavern behind them. "I ... um ... no. I've taken no such vows. Maker's breath - can we speak of something else?" The sound of Dorian's drunken chortling caused Reina to realize the ridiculous tableau that they must make - the Herald of Andraste and the Commander of the Inquisition's forces standing outside of a tavern with faces flushed enough to replace the torches lighting the streets - all because of an idiotic question. It wasn't long before she felt herself dissolving into laughter, surprising herself with the genuine mirth that made her feel more complete than she had in a long time. 

"That's - all I wanted to know," Reina answered between bursts of laughter, "Thank you, Commander." 

"Herald." There was a stiffness to his voice that made Reina uneasy as she watched him turn and walk back towards the training camps. Perhaps it is better this way, a voice inside of her whispered, his anger will shield him if you - when you fail. 


End file.
